


Bonne Fête

by little0bird



Series: When Jack's Heart Stopped [14]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Apple Pie, Birthday, Gen, Reading Room, The Haus, jack's birthday, maple sugar crusted apple pie, zimbits - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-03
Updated: 2020-11-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:55:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27363112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/little0bird/pseuds/little0bird
Summary: It's Jack's 24th birthday and Bitty's debuts his maple sugar crusted apple pie.
Series: When Jack's Heart Stopped [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1344745
Comments: 8
Kudos: 59





	Bonne Fête

**Author's Note:**

> For displayheartcode.

The Reading Room was typically Shitty’s refuge, but he was off with Lardo, getting frozen yogurt. He’d strolled from the Haus with a wink, telling Jack not to wait up. He intended to take the long way back to the Haus. So the Reading Room was blessedly deserted.

Jack ducked through the window and stretched out on one of the lawn chairs with a sigh. It was hot and stuffy inside the Haus. Certainly too hot to sleep.

If someone had asked him where he would be on his twenty-fourth birthday when he was still a hotshot NHL prospect, earning a history degree in an NCAA Division III university would have been his last guess. Hell, when his therapist in rehab had asked him where he would be in five years, playing college hockey was not on his list. Playing hockey at all wasn’t on his list. He’d thought it too toxic. It took coaching a peewee team in Montreal to rediscover the joy of it all, not to mention playing in an environment where the other players on the team played for the sheer love of the game, not because they meant to go pro. In the past three years, his teammates had been kind enough to never mention his past. It was like some sort of unspoken rule. _Don’t ask Jack about the overdose or rehab. Or about Bad Bob Zimmermann._

Jack wiped a fine sheen of sweat off his face with the hem of his t-shirt, then shrugged and tugged it over his head. It was late and the spreading branches of the large oak tree in front of the Haus concealed him from the street. The worst thing that could happen was that a grainy, blurry photo would appear in the next issue of _The Swallow_. It wouldn’t be the first time. Nobody would pay him any mind, anyway. Not with the racket Holtzy and Rans were making on the front porch.

No one made a bid deal about his birthday, per his request. His parents had called earlier. Mémère had sent a birthday card with twenty dollars and an exhortation to not spend it all in one place. The boys had showered him in a chorus of “happy birthdays” at breakfast. It was just the way Jack wanted it.

‘Jack?’

Jack started and scrambled to put his shirt back on.

Bitty leaned through the open window. ‘I know you said you didn’t want a fuss, but that’s like askin’ a bird not to sing.’ He climbed through the window and presented Jack with a plate that contained two mini pies. ‘Hang on…’ He dug into a pocket of his shorts and produced a single candle, that he stuck into one pie, and then a cigarette lighter. The tiny flame flickered, then steadied, illuminating Bitty’s wide brown eyes. ‘Happy birthday.’ He grinned. ‘Don’t forget to make a wish!’

Jack closed his eyes. What did he want to wish for? An NCAA title? A Stanley Cup? A Calder or Hart Memorial trophy? His eyes fluttered open and took in Bitty, smiling winsomely. Unbidden, a wish crept into his head. _This. I want this…_ He blew out the candle, wondering if he even had a shot. Bitty was charming, comfortable in his own skin, vivacious, and so extroverted at times, it made Jack tired just watching him. He was everything Jack was not. _At any rate,_ Jack told himself as Bitty took the candle out of the pie and set it on the windowsill, _he doesn’t need to deal with my baggage._ But, oh, it was a lovely dream.

‘I tinkered with my recipe,’ Bitty said, picking up one of the pies and examining it with the same critical eye Jack gave to hockey plays.

‘Not too much, I hope.’ The pie was still warm, and the scent of cinnamon and apple wafted into his nose. ‘I like the apple.’

‘I know,’ Bitty said smugly. ‘I added a l’il something to the crust.’

‘Protein powder?’ Jack joked with a laugh, before biting into the pie. _Ohhhhhh_. Maple sugar surged into his tastebuds. It reminded him of Christmas holidays with his grandmother, and the apple tarts she made. ‘This is pretty good,’ he commented.

Bitty’s face lit up the night, brighter than the candle. ‘You like it?’

‘Yeah.’ Jack waved a finger over the pie. ‘I, uh, like the maple sugar on the crust.’

‘Really?’ Bitty glowed with the light of the sun. ‘Good. I had you in mind when I was playing with the recipe.’ He collected the plate and started to climb back inside the Haus. ‘Happy Birthday, Jack.’

**Author's Note:**

> "Bonne fête" is the French Canadian version of Happy birthday.


End file.
